Seventy passed through the apartment complex casually, the sound of the breaking window falling on deaf or disinterested ears. Whoever was awake to hear the disturbance seemed content to hide behind their own rickety doors, hoping the attentions of monsters would pass them by. Monsters like me, Seventy thought to himself with a smile.

His car waited for him dutifully in the lot, its age protecting it from vandals. No sense of style, these criminals. The engine lazily turned over, headlights cutting dimly into the young night around him as he rolled onto the street. All his.
"Where we off to, sweetheart?"

The voice came from the backseat, and Seventy spun around, hand dropping from the wheel to his weapon as he felt the instincts of the Beast mix with an echo of human fear to overcome him. The car screeched over the curb of the sidewalk as he turned to face the threat – the sound of a shotgun being pumped stopped him.

“Calm down, son. Behave yourself.”

Seventy's fangs extended themselves as the Beast recognize the blood of a fellow predator...one older and more powerful than he was. The instinct to run gripped him, but the barrel of the weapon pressed against the back of his driver's seat froze him in place.

“That's better. No reason to lose our manners, is there?” An accent that belonged on the streets of London colored the gravely voice. The man was unassuming in appearance, with dark tussled hair and a face that betrayed no emotion except cold confidence.

“Get back on the road before you make a scene of us. Wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression now, would we?”

=================

The carnival was a cornucopia of forgotten memories and lost childhood innocence. Garishly striped tents and booths sat dilapidated and neglected, their wares stolen long ago. Time and nature both had taken their tolls, vines and shrubs crawling up from cracked pavement and over wooden structures with chipped paint peeling from their sides and graffiti sprayed across them. Harold Harlem's Hairless Horses, Sylvania's Tarot Readings, Carnival Treats.

Ahead there was a squat building of cinderblock with broken windows stuffed closed with filthy rags. The orange light from a fire flickered from beneath the sealed door, and only now that the fear of death had left him did Landis remember how cold he was.

Landis' tongue flicked out and ran over his thin, cracked lips as he stared hungrily at the door. Slowly he began to walk towards it again, muscles tense as he waited for something else to attack.

The wideness is so full of pain...

He readied himself to bolt as he unwound one arm from his body. As he reached for the doorknob, hand shaking slightly, he felt as though the orange light was already surrounding his frigid body. With another nervous tongue flick he began to turn it, ready to swing it open and peer in. The wideness was not going to get him again...

A bustling crowd on a long Christmas night, one final test before leaving the nest. Samuel and Gina stand in the alleyway; he whispers encouragement, final notes to pick out prey from the herd. She covers herself and keeps her head low, blending into the masses. The river of movement flows seamlessly along the cracked pavement. One pebble in front of her sways differently to the others, she finds her mark and tracks it. She does not notice the one behind her, the one with the black aura, veins pulsing through it.

The drunken man stumbles into an alleyway to release the long night of jubilation behind a dumpster. She silently creeps behind him preparing to strike, when the heavy hand turns her shoulder, a flash of red eyes and pointed fangs. She screams in terror as the other vampire tries to overpower her. She’s pinned to the ground, pushing the assailant’s shoulders away, trying to force the snapping dog-like face away from her. A heavy kick to the assailant’s abdomen sends him into the wall.

“Go!”

Sam’s snarled command echoes through the ally. She races towards the lights, going against the grain of the crowd. There are so many people in her way. So many people.

Gina awakens from her memory. How long had it been since that day? How many more years would she spend hiding from the world? She looked over at the clock. Plenty of nigh time left. She probably got bored at her computer and closed her eyes for a moment too long. It was odd though. She rarely ever dreamed, as was the nature of her condition. Something was different tonight. Maybe Jacoby’s pestering had finally gotten to her. Maybe she was missing her talks with Sam, it had been a while since his last call.

She looked at the email from Kathryn, then back to the USB in her pocket. While it was not exactly wise to go straight to her turf, it would be better than having others bloodhound her out of her haven. She decided to burn another CD of the information, putting that one in another protective case, and hiding the USB in a lose crack space under the cot. She went about hiding her other information too, in the walls and spaces underneath and inside the couch. Finally, putting on galoshes, a loose jacket, folding her hood around the top and fastening a light cloth scarf around her face, she left her safe little room for the first time in over a decade. She new the upper sewers like the back of her hand, having been the main mode of transportation during her years serving under Sam. Her only hope was that the structures above ground were the same as they had been all those years ago.

The interior of the shack was just as dull and decrepit as the outside, with a broken metal partitioning of stalls and a horrific stench of waste and filthy humanity inside which made it apparent that Landis had just stumbled inside the old carnival's toilets. A single rusted oil drum sat in the center of the room burning whatever pungent trash the occupants of the structure used as fuel to stave off the chill winter nights, and the sleeping forms of the sick and homeless wrapped in garbage bags could be made out lying in the dark corners of the room. The smoke from the weak fire collected on the ceiling, which had a crude hole cut into it to allow the noxious fumes to escape. In the darkness, the sleeping forms stirred, but none seemed awakened by their unexpected guest.

=========

The dingy sewers had not changed since Gina's last excursion to the surface, now so long ago. Broken, long-unused pipes and piles of discarded trash and ancient glass bottles were all that remained to indicate humans had tread here. These tunnels which had been carved over a century prior for the city which now slowly decayed above her seemed to have been forgotten by their creators, like the catacombs of a long dead pharaoh. Just rats, water, darkness, and silence. And Gina, of course.

She climbed the ladders to the upper strata of the tunnels, navigating her way skillfully to the old pump station that would take her to the surface. Gradually, the noises of life overhead began to find their way down to her through the darkness.
EDIT: deadline added Nov. 16 midnight.

Vincent waited patiently in the taxi as he close in on the cemetery where one of Dietrich's brethren made their haven. Vincent was not very fond of the nosferatu as a whole, they were hideous and stank to the high heavens, even by kindred standards they were greedy for knowledge, perhaps due to being holed up night and day usually. The ugly things tended to be strong though, perhaps to make up for everything else the curse gave them, so Vincent was reluctant to visit this person but it was the best lead he had currently. He could have gone to the bar and chased down the gang, but it seemed unlikely at best to turn up anything worthwhile.

He noted the time at 10:39pm after glancing down to his watch and hoped he wouldn't spend the whole night driving in this taxi, the cabbie keep looking like he was about to speak up, but Vincent unnerved the poor man. After leaving the mental hospital and being asked then to go to a cemetery the taxi driver was beginning to think Vincent was some kind of serial killer.

Vincent filled in the time by writing down new information and thinking about his next move, the hospital was a start, if a fairly bad one. He needed to find something here or he would start getting lost.

The door to the outside groaned against being opened. Fresh air raced inside, hitting Gina’s face. How she had forgotten the sweet chill of the night air. She looked at her surroundings. The skyline had changed, though not so much that it was unrecognisable. More of the surrounding area had become derelict during her hiding. The sounds of dogs and people were distant, with the occasional gunshot and car tires screeching on slick road. She felt like a freshly embraced childe, not ready to face the cruller side of humanity just yet. She’d have to stick to the shadows while walking, keeping eyes open for others in the ally ways. While Sam had once taught her the value of her abilities, she feared that her lack of practice had lead her to forget how to remain unseen. For now, she would have to move quickly, on foot, to Kathryn’s domain.

She remembered it, Fiore, A lush hotel for the richer kine and kindred. She remembered going there, being gawked at with disgust while picking up harsh whispers behind her back. Like high school all over again. It was a twenty-five minute drive, and a far longer walk. While the night wasn’t bustling, the odd homeless and vagrant watched from their hidden spaces. The temptation to try for warm blood had quelled over the years, favouring the chill of a pre-packaged meal. She kept her head low as a group of loud drunks passed by her, cussing at each other over something trivial. She spotted an open faucet along her path, deciding to wash the grime from her boots before she entered the daeva’s abode. She hoped the spray of aerosol earlier that night would keep away the smell of not having showered in so long.

Finally, she reached the nicer side of town, and with it, the hotel.

The building itself was an opulent one, drawing inspiration from the streets of some moneyed Italian vista that set it distinctly apart from the business edifices that surrounded it in the financial district of the city. A handful of bellhops in red caps and white gloves stood in front of a row of glass doors like Buckingham sentries, the warm interior light of the lobby spilling out into the dark streets outside.

Gina walked softly past a bellhop who hesitated just long enough to be noticed before he opened the door for her and she stepped inside. She hadn't gone three steps before a large black wearing an expensive suit approached her with a radio in one hand. By the look of him, he could have been a boxer in another life.

"May I help you, sir?"

“Ms Kathryn is expecting me.”

The man was taken aback by Gina's obviously feminine voice, though her choice of clothing and the way she concealed her face certainly did little to help others determine her gender.

"I'm sorry, uh, miss, but the lobby is for use by hotel patrons only. If you return as a guest we would be happy to..."

The boxer stopped in mid sentence as his radio beeped in his hand. He turned a shoulder and muttered something back to the garble of static that hissed at him, then turned back to Gina.

"Apologies, miss. You are expected in the Filomena," he said with a gesture towards the classy restaurant that occupied the side of the hotel.

She checked her pocked for the CD. Good, still there.

The Filomena was a simplistic but obviously expensive Italian restaurant, all white tablecloths imported furniture. The chairs where starting to be stacked onto the tables even at this earlier time, the establishment having officially closed about an hour prior. A barkeep washed glassed and tended to an impressive row of bottles alone in the center while a single worker busied himself collecting silverware as quietly as possible. Kathryn sat alone at the bar, twirling a finger around the rim of a glass as she studied a leather-bound notebook before her.

She was certainly the most gorgeous woman Gina had ever seen, with a graceful feminine figure that may once have been the subject of a great Renaissance sculptor. Even seated, it was obvious that Kathryn was tall, with long legs and flowing mahogany hair which artfully cascaded down her shoulders and over her soft-featured face. The elegant violet evening dress she wore clung closely to the curves of her body, and was just short enough to let everyone who cared to look see her shapely legs. Her outfit and jewelry together probably cost more than the Ferrari Gina had seen outside.

The daeva looked up, feigning surprise at seeing Gina arrive, and waved her closer with a a couple of curled fingers and a smile.

As Gina approached, the Toreador woman nodded to the barkeep, who slid down to the end of the bar and began to busy himself underneath. When she spoke, it was with a voice that belonged in native Tuscany.

"Gina, my lovely child. I am delighted that you decided to accept my invitation. How long has it been for us?"

"I'm not sure, seventeen I think. Haven't really being keeping track of time."

"Please sit down, love. You are welcome and safe here, I promise." she said, tapping the bar with a finger.

She wandered over to the Daeva cautiously and took a seat next to the woman.

"I understand you've a penchant for keeping to yourself. There is scarcely a kindred in this city that can call you by name."

Gina's face grimed, her hands went to the ends of her jumper "When Samuel and I got jumped by the Gangrel Diablerist on Christmas."

"I see. Some of the more unsavoury of our kind, barely above the beasts of the fields. It must have been hard for you, being the youngest of the Kindred in such a city as this."

"Not so much anymore. Or at least, from what I've heard. That's why you called for me isn't it?"

"Gina, I contacted you because I saw an opportunity for the both of us. I was excited to hear that you possessed the talents needed in this venture, because it would give you the chance you needed to climb out of your sewer and back into the world above. To find your place, lovely girl. A place beside friends. Beside me." Kathryn smiled warmly as the barkeep walked over to the two of them, placing two wine glasses on the bar before them, a thick red liquid inside.

"I think the sewer suits fine. You may not have noticed, but I'm not exactly one of the lucky ones that could pass upstairs."

"Luck has nothing to do with survival up here, Gina. It is cunning and initiative that matter. We make our own luck."

"It is an interesting offer, don't get me wrong. And I mean no offense, but even still I don't believe your...fellow members, would be too thrilled about having someone like myself in your ranks. I'm also curious as to why you didn't just ask Samuel first. He's much more capable and powerful than I."

"Powerful, perhaps. Capable, I do not believe so. You underestimate yourself, love. Will you permit me my faith on you?"

"For what purpose though?"

"You already know about the Greystone fire and the rumours surrounding the Malkovian primogen?"

"I know about the fire and that a number of patients escaped." Gina suddenly realises how loose her lips were and slaps herself on the forehead.

The daeva's tone became playful. "Oh? I don't recall the authorities mentioning anyone missing. Perhaps you know more than you let on, hmm?"

Gina sighs in regret, and tries to delicately pick up the wineglass in front of her. "As far as I know, it was something internal and people got out." She takes a long drink of the liquid inside.

Kathryn waited for Gina to elaborate.

She looked at the elder vampire nervously. "Possibly inmates that got together in their spare time and decided it would be a good idea to blow a hole in the wall."

"But why would you be looking into that sort of information in the first place?"

if she could still perspire, Gina would have been drenched by now. "Because...I heard it on the news and it piqued my interest?"

Kathryn was obviously less-than convinced, but if she was offended by Gina's weak lie, she chose not to show it. "Ok, dearest. Keep your secrets, if you wish. A word of advice though: if you have a secret, be careful with whom you share...They are like a sickness, sometimes. You never know who will pick it up next."

Gina keeps drains the last few drops of blood from the wine glass. "Sorry, but there's some people that I'd rather not get in trouble. I think they're in over their head though..."

"I see. Well, you are right to protect what friends you have. Dependable allies are a rare treasure amongst us."

She nodds, there's a pause between the two. "So, what is your interest in the hospital anyway?"

The Daeva smiled amused. "Same as every other Kindred's, I imagine. A rumoured guest of particular interest."

"And this guest...is a threat to the masquerade?"

"Our Prince certainly thinks he is. Malkovian childer have been forbidden for decades for that exact reason. If the rumours are true, our primogen has made an enormous mistake in letting his offspring live long enough to be discovered."

Gina returns to scrunching the ends of her jumper. “Besides the prince, who else would want this kind of information?”

"The prestigious station Hague occupies has made him a tempting target for any Kindred, dearest. You, me, anyone. We all have something to gain at his expense."

Gina's face turns to a frown, trying to think why Jacoby would go over the heads of their superiors for something like this. Thoughts turn to him trying out the political dance, it just didn't seem right."What would you do if you had that information?"

Kathryn shifted delicately in her seat, making a bit of theater as she pondered the possibilities. "Hague would be more useful as an ally than a defeated competitor. I would likely just...keep it safe. And so long as Hague provided favours for myself...and my friends, it would stay that way."

"And the Childe?"

"If there was no childe, and he wasn't safe...would Hague have any reason to dispense favours? Of course not. He is useful healthy and hidden, don’t you agree?"

Gina nodded. She chewed on her lips and took the CD from out of her jacket. She held it firmly. "It's what I was able to find on the missing patients. One of them fits the bill for your possible missing childe...I have one condition."

Kathryn did not seem at all surprised as Gina placed the disk on the bar between them. "What might that be, dear?"

"My brother, he doesn’t get involved in this. He might try something, but I don't want him harmed."

The Daeva just smiled disarmingly at Gina, as if to a younger sister. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

As the subway train screeches to a halt, Mel quickly gets up and heads to the door. As the door opens, he walks out and heads to the street. Walking around he looks to see if there are any bums in the alleyways that he can feed on. Unsatisfied, he heads to the docks where he knows he can get some food. Time to go see Dietrich....

Vincent started to climb the hill of the cemetery having told the cabbie to wait for him again, though this time Vincent left the man with a look of growing concern over his face. After passing through the rusted iron gates, he realized he didn't actually know where this "friend" of Dietrich lived. He spend a few minutes walking around slowly before heading up to where some of the crypts stood, he figured this was one of the most likely haven locations around. So far the only clue he had was to look for Indian pots, which seemed like an odd feature to mention but after peeking around a few crypts he found the right one.

This crypt had to be the most decorated and, unknown to Vincent, most used. Hopefully the corpse in this one still moved on occasion and, if he was lucky, had information he could use. The outside wasn't that remarkable, but to be fair, the occupant usually wouldn't complain about the buildings design. Wedged between two Parthenon style pillars was a stone door, which turned out to be surprisingly lighter than it looked. After pushing open the door Vincent took a step back, this was an uninvited visit to another kindred's haven after all, they could be stronger than he was, not to mention some kindred can go bat-shit crazy when it concerns their home.

After a quick look from the door he could tell it was empty, at least this room was. He had a hidden room in his own haven after all, it wasn't exactly an original idea. He took a few tentative steps inside and immediately saw the Indian pots Dietrich had mention on the phone. Around each wall, excluded the one claimed by the door, were raised shelves all displaying pots from what appeared to be different cultures and time periods. The back wall in the middle and the wall to his left held Indian pots out for the world to see, while the right seemed to be something else altogether, Vincent didn't know for sure but if he had to guess he would of said Greek. The middle of the room belonged solely to large sarcophagus which Vincent now approached.

After giving the sarcophagus a quick look over, revealing a symbol on the lid, roughly where the head should be rest inside.Vincent couldn't read the symbol, and didn't bother trying, he wasn't proficient in anything other than English. After giving the lid a solid push, the top slide off easily enough to show a corpse of a what looked like a hobo. He had long messy hair, tattered clothes and rags, and after forcing himself to smell for the first time tonight, stank of rotten flesh. Vincent quickly decided to stop breathing again and allowed a slight look of disgusted to crawl onto his face after a moment of examination. The looked three days old considering it had become bloated and grayish green, he found it highly unlikely that his man belonged here.

After a moment of dragging, the body lay on the floor and revealed a short flight of stairs where the sarcophagus's bottom should have been. The body itself was rested on two small ledges to cover the entrance. Vincent didn't really need to see this as proof, but it was more than clear the kindred he sought did, in fact, live here. After glancing back to the door for a moment Vincent decided to climb down, curiosity got the better of him most of the time.

He emerged in a large room at least double the size of the crypt above and began to scan the room over. It contained a small used bed, a painting on the wall, a display case holding an old uniform which was likely either Chinese or Japanese, Vincent didn't know much about history, but anyone could guess that. Vincent walked up to the display case and had a look, thinking it was more than likely that the owner was older than he was, a thought that didn't make Vincent happy. There was a katana sheathed against the outside wall of the case, which Vincent carefully picked up and examined with some genuine interest for once, it was the first time he had physically seen one, but also the first time he'd known a kindred to have, and possibly use, a sword. He slid the katana out and turned it around, looking it over, before giving it a few swings around the room, having a little fun for the first time tonight. He remember why he was here though and sheathed the blade, he didn't need anything in this room, and did not want to be found here if the kindred came home suddenly.

After carefully returning the katana to it's original position he left the room, returned the corpse to the best home it would likely have in it's death, and closed the lid back up on the sarcophagus before walking back outside to wait next to the cab. The kindred in question would likely return home tonight, Nosferatu of all the clans make sure to stick to their havens when they can help it. All that was left to do was wait.

Landis breathed in the scent of unwashed bodies and rotting garbage. The scent was such a change from the horrible mix of bleach and plastic which seemed to seep from the asylum walls that he felt a terrible mix of fear and comfort. It was nice to know he wouldn't be shackled up again but this was all so new. His eyes flicked around at the sleeping figures as he slowly made his way closer to the crude source of heat, the need for warmth trumping his neurosis.

Seventy's first instincts now at bay, his second and third instincts kicked in simultaneously and immediately began to bicker about who had got there first. His mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. "Bolt like a deer. Fast, fast." went one, "Dat shotgun's more dan a pair of headlights, frère." went another. Seventy decided that neither running away like a coward nor freezing and staring blankly were viable strategies, so he fell back upon his favorite...

"Mais, mon ami, you got de drop on me real good. Real good. Dat said, I would be delighted to render my services to you for only a nominal fee -- no, for free. Yes. A free ride anywhere, ami. Where you want to go, eh?"

With that, he systematically hitched up the muscles required to intimate a winning smile, and hoped.

"Happy to see we've put all the awkward parts of the relationship behind us, then. Roll us on over to Madison and Edge - Sir Richmond would like a few words with you."

After meeting with Dietrich and getting a "dinner for a favor", Mel heads to the Subway and goes back to his haven. As he's getting to the gate, he notices a cab outside. Hmmmm...odd. Making sure that his hood is low enough to cover a good portion of his face, he walks towards the cab.

"Happy to see we've put all the awkward parts of the relationship behind us, then. Roll us on over to Madison and Edge - Sir Richmond would like a few words with you." "Mais, ami, why would de grand chien want to see li'l ol' me? I am a simple man. Tonight, I am but a mere taxi driver. Last night, I was... unemployed."

"Well my friend, it seems your fortunes have changed for the better. Consider it a business opportunity." "Opportunity at de end of a shotgun. Dis startin' to sound like a wedding I dodged once, I tink."The Londoner must have left his sense of humor across the Atlantic. He made no further efforts at conversation, seemingly content to keep his weapon pressed firmly against the back of the driver's seat as they drove to the worse side of town.

Seventy decides that a bit more information is required in order for things to go smoothly. He glances into the rearview mirror and says,"You don' strike me as de type to let a cat get ahold of your tongue, ami. Is dere anyt'ing I should know before we arrive? Does de grand chien have a big, big mole he not want me to look at, maybe?"

"The Gov'nah doesn't bother me with all the details of his affairs, friend. My advice is to show him what respect is his due and you'll be off just fine."

Seventy sighs. It seems like his new-found friend is determined to stay as silent as manners will allow. "Fine, fine. We go, we talk, we do business, fortunes change. Sounds like a good, good time."

The Cold Horse was one of those bars that had been bought and sold, built and rebuilt, burnt, condemned, and shot its its long and colorful history. Dirty, fogged glass windows revealed nothing but a dim amber glow and the passing of muted silhouettes. The sounds of rancorous laughter and the occasional scuffle spilled into the street where pools of vomit and blood always seemed fresh. The establishment's sign was the simple outline of an eight-legged mare covered in dripping ice, the gold and green paint chipping with time and neglect.The ghoul made no attempt to disguise his weapon as he escorted Seventy across the street through the door, and into the smoked-filled interior.

The eyes of perhaps a dozen unsavory men passed over Seventy and his choice of attire, eliciting a few smirks and laughs before being dismissed with the prodding of the gun at his back, Seventy was guided towards the corner booth, where the kindred Sir Richmond awaited him.He was large, bulky, are wore an old leather leather jacket over dirty printed shirt. His head was bald and covered in the tattooed images of snakes, which coiled about his neck and across his face. A monocle sat over his left eye.

"Bonsoir, ami. As for de drink, mais... You got summin' to get de taste of shotgun out of the mouth?" Seventy cracks a smile, at this.Richmond's voice is gruff and guttural. "Your mouth? Apologies, my good sir. I keep telling Jeffrey not to stick his playthings in the mouths of strangers. Perhaps some Tequila rojo will do the trick."

A disheveled but attractive waitress, as though waiting for this cue, arrives with a bottle of tequila and places it on the table. She then produces a knife and cuts into her own palm, squeezing her blood into the glasses.

Seventy nods in thanks. "I been told you wanted to speak wit' me. Dis was quite surprising for me." Seventy clears his throat, and resumes speaking, his speech patterns 'cleaned up', though the accent remains. "I am, as I told your associate, a thoroughly uninteresting individual."

"Now don't bore us all with your modesty. That weapon you keep with you I'm sure has a different story to tell, I should imagine."

Seventy shrugs. "It is used when the need arises. Whether or not I go seeking the need to use it is a secret I guard closely." Seventy grins again.

"Stories are heard regardless, friend. Is it untrue that you used that pistol to turn a man into a woman through a table? These are the sorts of rumors this lot brings in the door with them, you see."

Seventy shrugs, still smiling. "He started it." He pauses for a moment before continuing, "Something about not liking the way I dressed."

"I'm sure the man was a philistine. Perhaps his sense of fashion will be elevated by his new life as a woman." Richmond smirked at his own joke before downing his shotglass, the taking care to straighten his monocle."So your modesty aside, we now agree that you have quite a talent after all. How would you like to be paid for it?"

"Paid for it, you say?" Seventy's smile slips a bit in favor for a more quizzical expression. "Anyt'ing but money orders, ami. De banks don' like dem, you see."

"Excellent. You see the caliber of my fellows here? I seldom get to pursue a venture with another gentleman. Tell me, what do you know about Malkovians?"

"They're a special kind of crazy. Considered mostly harmless, insofar as any of us are." Seventy quirks an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"You're correct that they are considered mostly harmless - but they can be...difficult...to manage. The Prince dislikes unpredictable elements, and has therefore banned them from siring Childer in Elizabeth. A sound law, I must agree. But it seems one of our Malkovian kindred has been siring progeny in secret for years, all in contradiction of our beloved Prince's word. Despicable, isn't it?"

"Dat's an interesting problem, dat is." Seventy scratches his chin. "This particular Malko' must be a very special kind of crazy indeed. Do we have any idea why he'd be doing this?"

Richmond waves his hand dismissively. "Loneliness. Boredom. Such concepts are beyond my humble comprehension. Perhaps they eat their young like some of the rodent kingdom's noble denziens. Regardless, it is our duty as loyal subjects of our beloved Prince to investigate this matter, and correct it if necessary is it not?"

Seventy shrugs. "I live to serve."

"Capital. Should your efforts assist me in acquiring the evidence necessary to justly incriminate this man, I assure you your prospects whatsoever they may be will increase a thousandfold. My patronage is quite generous, I can promise you."

Seventy smiles once more. "That's good enough for me."

Behind him, Seventy felt more than heard Jeffrey shift in his seat, orienting his weapon in Seventy's direction. The price of failure need not be mentioned.

Vincent looked up as the stranger approached the taxi, and their eye's met for a moment, in which time seemed to stretch as they both felt the beast slamming around the mental cage in their heads. Vincent felt himself regain control but he got closer to losing himself then was comfortable to think about. The man seemed to fair the same and keeping walking towards him, without running at him like a maniac.

Vincent cleared his throat and spoke just before he walked past. "I believe your the man I've been waiting for..."

The man stopped and turned to face Vincent, though his hood and clothes covered most of his face. He spoke with a heavy Japanese accent as he said "I don't think so..I'm the...grounds keeper of the cemetery". He seemed to be a little caught off guard as he made up what they both knew to be an obvious lie.

Vincent forced himself to take a quick sniff and immediately stopped breathing again, although it might not have anything to do with being a kindred in this situation. The man smelled something like a garbage truck mixed with an "Greatful Dead" concert. "Definitely a nos....or a hobo", he thought to himself, and looked back at the man, trying not to look like his smell just physically assaulted him. "Well then..perhaps we could talk in your office then grounds keeper..." He glanced at the cabbie briefly to let the stranger know he was going to get in the way of the conversation. As they began to stroll away he said "I believe we have a mutual....friend. Dietrich sent me to have a chat".

"I wouldn't say..friend...but why? Listen..if this is about that favor..."

"Perhaps...I simply came here for some information. I need to know about anyone you might have seen in this area recently, I'm currently investigating an...incident".

"Incident eh? People I've seen around here recently...hmm....you, the cab driver, some lanky person that was in my haven, and of course....Bob. Bob doesn't talk much though..."

Vincent pulls out his notepad before continuing "Hmm....tell me about this person inside your haven, did you..see anything?"

"Well, Bob is...decaying. He has a long sleeve shirt on, no hair, and some gunshot wounds in his chest..Oh..and pants..."

Vincent did his best to not let his pain reflect on his face "I meant the visitor..."

"I haven't had any visitors lately...other than you of course. I have had intruders though"

Vincent sighed and looked back at the vampire probably older than himself and spoke as if talking to a small child and put on his best cop face. "What can you tell me about the intruder, this being the man or woman who entered your haven uninvited, and who may or may not have performed actions to your dislike"

"The intruder....uh, short from my perspective, lanky, was in a white thing, and can run really fast. Now, might I ask why you're wondering about the intruder? Bob is much more interesting."

Vincent sighed inside, and perhaps even died a little too. "Short, in a white thing and lanky. Well...I can see this was worth the wait. do you actually know anything useful? like the direction they headed, if it was male or female, clothing? Did they say anything at all? and what were they doing in your haven when you found them?"

"Well, I'm glad it was worth the wait to you. It was male, The top was white....and he ran that way" He pointed to the other end of the graveyard, Vincent saw a small fence with trees on the other side. "And no, it didn't say anything...I got out of my room, and it ran". He looked at Vincent for a moment and said "Now, what else can I help you with, Mr....what was your name again?"

Vincent looked thoughtful for a moment and seemed to ignore the question, he finally said "You may call me Vincent...", before looking down at his watch, "and how long ago was this?"

The man appeared to think for a minute before answering. "How long ago did this happen...hmm....two train rides to and from downtown, and dinner with Dietrich. So maybe around five hours ago"

Vincent was disappointed, but he now had a idea of the direction his target was heading, even if he had a lead on him. He sighed and managed a "Thanks for your time" before heading back to the taxi.